Words course through my body like the very air I breathe, overwhelming my mind and soul in a tidal wave of intensity. They are the heart of my stories, which live so passionately within me that reality cannot compare. Just as the blaring voices of my characters often drown out my thoughts, my outward actions barely distract me from the exhilarating realms of my mind.

My stories blaze with such color and brilliance that I struggle to contain their complexity in the written language. This inability traps the violent swirl of plots and characters within me, leaving me torn between the unhappy yet sublime world of stories and the agonizing calm of real life. The only solution to this curse is to keep writing, and I fear I shall never be free from its glorious clutches.

You make an excellent point SapphireCat! One of the many struggles of great writers is clarifying for the reader images, visions, and aspirations that flow through them as wind moves through air. The struggle too often is in finding the words that give proper description and detail every subtle nuance captured in the imagination of the writer themselves. This is not a curse... but a blessing. It is in the struggle that we find real meaning in writing as we invest ourselves as craftsmen to the task of bringing the light, hope, new visions, and new worlds of possibilities to our readers

Oh my goodness, you've captured what I feel every day in wonderful words. It's such a horrible yet glorious feeling, isn't it? Can't live with it but can't live without it. Ugh, if only we could do more with the things inside of us. I have the feeling I'll be coming back to read this mroe than once...

I don't know about anyone else, but I have serious trouble putting things on paper the way they actually appear in my mind. All of my writing ideas seem more exciting, profound, and colorful in every way when I first think of them, yet somehow their magnificence diminishes by several notches when I try to form them into words. Talk about frustrating!